


Ask me, angel.

by DictionaryWrites2



Series: ☀️☀️☀️ Prompt Minifills [28]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Begging, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, M/M, Teasing, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18793513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites2/pseuds/DictionaryWrites2
Summary: Crowley teases.





	Ask me, angel.

**Author's Note:**

> Request: ☀️ something with a/c on a countertop or on the floor? inspired by your fic 😙

“You like to watch me cooking, huh?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale heaved in a gasp, trying to adjust his grasp on the marble counter, pressing his face against the cool, hard stone as he spread his legs a little farther apart. Crowley was pressed right up against him, one hand grabbing at his waist as the other dragged between his buttocks, rubbing against his arse, and Aziraphale could scarcely  _stand_  it. He was certainly  _prepared_ , wet and open, because Crowley had been playing with him for a good ten minutes, and it was unbearable. “You sit here, you watch me,  _admire_  me, and you–”

“My dear, love of my life,” Aziraphale snapped, shuddering at the way it made Crowley laugh against his shoulder, following the sound up with a sinful drag of his tongue over the skin, “just– just do it, would you? Have me, take me,  _know_  me–”

“ _Fuck_  you?” Crowley asked, in a tone of faux innocence, and Aziraphale moaned. 

“Just– Crowley, you’re teasing, you’re  _teasing_ –”

“I’m teasing,” Crowley agreed, and Aziraphale’s whole body shuddered as Crowley’s cock, wet at its head and hard, slid between Aziraphale’s buttocks, playing over him and not pressing forward. Crowley gripped at his arse, taking handfuls of thick flesh under grasping hands, and Aziraphale whimpered as he felt Crowley thrust between his buttocks.

It was hot, and it was  _good_ : he was flush with arousal, but it was nowhere near sufficient, nowhere near  _stimulating_  enough, and he felt he would die, he was sure, he was  _sure_ …

“Ask me, and I’ll do it,” Crowley murmured, and then he dragged his tongue up the length of Aziraphale’s spine, and Aziraphale felt himself jolt. “Ask me, angel.”

“Ask you?”

“Ask me to fuck you, and I’ll fuck you,” Crowley murmured, and Aziraphale exhaled.

“Crowley,” he said. “Crowley, my d–  _dear_ –”

“Mmm?”

“I want you to– to  _take_  me, please, I want you to–”

“ _Fuck_  you.”

“Have me.”

“ _Fuck_  you.”

“Make lov–”

“ _Say_  it,” Crowley said, and he bit into Aziraphale’s shoulder, pressing down hard on the meat there, and Aziraphale whined. His skin was hot all over, and he couldn’t bear the desperate arousal twisting and leaping in his stomach, the shame, the  _want_ –

“I hardly see why it matters so much to you,” Aziraphale said, and then Crowley thrust right up against his entrance, just  _threatening_ , and not actually pressing in… Aziraphale’s cheeks were burning, his fingers scrabbling at the smooth surface, and he broke. “Oh,  _fuck_  me, Crowley, please–”

“ _Yesss_ ,” Crowley hissed, and thrust forward in one slick, easy movement, and Aziraphale moaned. 


End file.
